


In Hope County

by CeruleanChillin



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Cults, Drug Use, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Fluff, Marriage, Recreational Drug Use, vulgarity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 08:11:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15335592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeruleanChillin/pseuds/CeruleanChillin
Summary: The small moments matter as much as the big ones.Reader x Various Far Cry 5 characters.





	In Hope County

**Author's Note:**

> This has AU touches to it. The reader is not Rook or the reader featured in the chapters starring the brothers (to come). Also, Nick ain't married to Kim.  
> The lack of Nick fics is sooo disheartening *cries in lawd why*. He’s just so sweet and goofy.

Despite being told many times he wasn’t a fighter, Nick had engaged in his share of scraps in his 29 years. Still, he got the point. He didn’t seek out violence, in fact, he was known for being a peaceable guy. That didn’t stop his parents from whooping his ass, or whacking the expanse of the back of his head, when he got caught fighting though. Ironic, considering they split the task of creating a broken home through fighting.  
In the end, he was a country boy to his soul. That meant when the conditions were right, he was throwing punches with the best of them.

The conditions couldn’t have been more right the night he met you. He had gone down to the Spread Eagle for a beer with Sharky and, to his annoyance, Hurk who had arrived soon after. Looking back, that was the point he should’ve left, but Sharky had talked him into staying.

It was summer, and the bar was filled with visiting family, townies free from work, high school kids (being given a pass by Mary May), and out of towners. He knew a lot of people turned their noses up at Hope County and its hokey style of living. Sure the local fashion was dated, and many people still used flip phones. No, you weren’t going to find trendy sushi spots, and some people thought the phrase “do you have wifi?” meant asking for alcohol in another language. Or possibly something dirty.  
Even so, it was the energy of a night like that, the embodiment of summer, that made him love Hope County. That, and the cheap booze and plenty of open air to engage in his family legacy. 

“You’re zonin’ out dude, come on! Now I’m no Chuck Norris, but I’m pretty damn interesting too, if I say so myself. I do by the way.” Sharky nudged his shoulder so hard, Nick nearly dropped his grip on his half-empty beer.

“I heard ya man.” He shrugged him off.

“What’d I say then?” a smug grin flirted across his friend’s features.

“Somethin’ involving some dumbass idea that’ll end in some dumbass way, fire included of course.” 

Sharky laughed, and stretched his arms back to cradle his head. “Just checkin’, gotta keep you on your toes. You need someone to guide your young mind.”

“There’s some cougar, or bear, roamin’ outside these walls right now who’d better fill those shoes my friend.” Nick clapped Sharky’s shoulder as he stood to get another beer.

Sharky grumbled something, and tugged at the brim of his hat in response.

He was never used to the lines at the bar, no matter how many summers he spent there. He tipped back his head and inhaled deeply out of frustration.  
Truthfully, he smelled you before he saw you. Vanilla and sandalwood, something he later learned was your signature scent. It’s what made him notice the two girls in front of him, one of which was you. Your friend was already buzzed, and urging you to join her. You were clearly amused, and entertaining her funny dialogue.

Nick thought you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and it wasn’t because he was borderline buzzed himself. No.  
Your hair was piled on your head, messy, yet somehow neat at the same time. You were wearing an orange sundress that settled on your curves in such a way, he was able to make out every one. Every time you turned to your friend, he caught more of your face and it made his stomach dip. Every time you tipped your head back, and let out that full laugh, he grinned too.

He felt that rush like when he was in Carmina, soaring above Hope’s County. That alone made him want to get your name, but he felt like his tongue was fighting the entirety of mouth for dominance.

“Fuck it then! You get the drinks, I’ll get the song!” Your friend loudly declared, skirting around you to head to the jukebox.

You and Mary had exchanged a look, before erupting into laughter. You ordered water for your friend, and requested Mary pick your next drink. 

“I uh, wouldn’t do that.” Nick’s voice cracked, and a string of curses went off in his head.

You turned to him, and settled your pretty eyes on him for the first time. Nick felt like time slowed down, and you later told him something similar had happened for you too. He felt his whole body thrum with the energy of your attention.

“Why’s that?” 

Nick lifted the brim of his hat to scratch his head out of nerves. “Because...Mary’ll just use you for an experiment if you do. She has this shit called ‘The Hurk’ where she just dumps whatever alcohol she spots first into a glass.”

Mary crossed her arms and glared at him. “I think I’m calling your tab in tonight.”

 

“I think I’ll just stick to the beer. Thanks for the tip cowboy.” 

Mary gathered your order all the while, shooting him the stink eye. “You asshole. I got teens who think they’re adults, and adults who think they’re teens on my ass all night. I think of something to give myself a little break, and you shit on it.”

Nick laughed at her pouting. “Just looking out for the general public. Thankless job that it is.”

“That’s nothing but Sharky come out of your mouth right now, you should limit your time together.”

“Yeah well-” he stopped once he realized in the middle of his and Mary’s banter, you had slipped off to follow your friend.  
“Shit.” he cursed.

“Aww, that’s what you get.” Mary pelted an ice cube at him.

“Just give me another beer.” he sighed out, eyes watching you try to entice your friend to have some water.

He spent the next two beers feeling like a creep, and Sharky was certainly no help critiquing his lack of “game”, but he couldn’t help staring at you. You were beautiful as it was be it standing, talking, or laughing. He’d come to know that. Dancing, however, you took his breath away. Once your friend had toned it down, you started having fun with her. He’d watched (and he definitely wasn’t gripping the table out of jealousy every so often) as guys gifted you with quarters so that your dancing didn’t end. He thought of handing you one himself, but his feet felt glued to the floor. Instead, his eyes stayed glued to you.

That’s when Hurk started up. Nick had somehow forgotten he was there, apparently he had been out back doing dumb shit for bets. Typical Hurk behavior. He’d come back into the bar shouting about his winnings, and eager to spend them. That’s when he spotted you and your friend, because of the fact that you had the attention of half the bar.  
Nick sat on the edge of his seat, eyes narrowed, and table gripped. 

He couldn’t exactly hear what Hurk had said, due to him putting on that fake deep voice he did when he wanted to impress a lady. Nick wasn’t threatened by that, it wouldn’t work on a girl like you. Even if he didn’t know you, he knew that. Still, he didn’t want Hurk harassing you, or starting a mess. Too bad.

A guy stood up from a nearby table, and he could hear what was said by him. Something to the effect of “Back off dumbass, before I knock your fat down your throat.”  
Hurk puffed out his chest (and subsequently his gut), though he was warily eyeing the guy’s table of friends, and told the guys to “Come at him.”

It was then, a tall girl from the guy’s table shot up and pushed herself between them. “You said you weren’t going to fight tonight Thomas, and what does it matter what he does anyways?”

Nick guessed by the way her eyes were narrowed in scrutiny, studying his next move, that she was most likely his girlfriend. 

Thomas started to respond, but Hurk started running his mouth again. “Tend to your own woman there Thomas, or I’ll do it when I’m done here.”

Thomas threw the first punch, and it was like it was in slow motion. It didn’t matter how many drinks you and your friend had consumed, your reflexes were impeccable, as you both doged Hurk’s falling body. He collapsed into the jukebox, ending the music instantly. Mary’s loud “Sonofabitch!” resounded throughout the space. Hurk leapt back to his feet brushing himself off, before launching himself at Thomas.  
Sharky was on his feet in record time “He’s a dumbass, but he’s blood.” he shrugged, rushing into the mix.

The girlfriend turned to you. You stupid bitch, you started this showing off all night.”

Your friend cursed back, but you stepped in front of her. “Fuck you. Your asshole boyfriend finally started having fun, and you’re mad it wasn’t with you.”

She charged you, but you were ready for her. It seemed once you started fighting, that gave the ok for everyone to start. Mary was shouting curses, and hosing anyone within spraying distance of the bar to make them stop. 

Nick didn’t even realize he was on his feet until he felt someone brush his arm in the chaos. He didn’t know what he intended to do, perhaps separate you? It just felt weird and wrong to stay seated. He’d made it close to you, when he caught someone headed for him out of the corner of his eyes. 

“Whoa there. We ain’t got problems.” He dodged the drunken man, who hit a table heavily, but got back to his feet.

The man slurred something, swung, and caught him dead in his jaw. Nick stumbled back a bit, before giving into the chaos of the fight himself. The more he fought to get to you, the more people seemed to throw themselves at him.  
It went like that, until Sheriff Whitehorse and Deputy Hudson arrived to end it. Their guys cleared the place of the people Mary wanted gone, and the remaining people shamefully licked their wounds in the aftermath.

Nick could feel the beginnings of a black eye blossoming, and he felt different areas of his torso tell him they’d provide him with a matching look before he knew it. His knuckles told him he’d given as good as he’d gotten, and felt a surge of pride worm through him.

You had chosen to stay, and help Mary clean up while your friend was passed out at a table that wasn’t a wreck. Your hair had lost it’s claim to neatness, but he thought you looked even more beautiful. Like a wildcat, and you had certainly had the claws to back it up.

“I probably would’ve been way worse if I’d have had the Hurk.” you chirped to Mary as you helped her sweep broken glass.

“If you had, had me...what?” Hurk slurred through his swollen lip, seated on one step, head resting on another behind him.

“He doesn’t know about the drink. You can see why I call it that though right?” Mary grimaced at him, as she took the loaded dustpan to a nearby trash can.

You giggled at that, but you fell into full blown laughter when Nick told Hurk to wait until he didn’t sound like an inbred Sylvester the cat to speak again. He was hit with another round of pride, and couldn’t stop grinning in what he knew was a goofy way.

You walked over to him, and gently touched the space below his eye. “You should get some ice on that stat.”

He shrugged. “I ain’t a underwear model, I don’t mind waitin’ til’ I get home.”

“Correction. You should let me put some ice on that.” you slyly grinned at him, and he started trying to calculate if there was any way he’d gotten knocked out during the fight and was dreaming.

“Ice in the back...Mary..Mary’s got ice in the back.” he stammered, mind still trying to calculate if reality was really still his friend or not.

“Just the ice too Rye! Fight night cost ya’ll free drinks for a while.” Mary called out from where she was assessing damages.

Normally that would have bummed him out (they were in the middle of summer for fucks sake and he wasn’t going all the way out to the 8-Bit every time he wanted a drink) but, he couldn’t find a fuck to give in the moment. Instead he just called out an understanding statement, and walked you into the back.

“So is Rye short for Ryan?” you asked once you’d reached the kitchen.

“No, that would be my last name. Rye as in ‘Rye and Sons Aviation’. I’m Nick.” he hopped onto the counter.

“Oh shit aviation?” you gestured towards the big freezer, and he nodded.

“Yeah, flying runs in the blood. Our family plane, Carmina, is the finest thing to touch the air. Guaranteed.” he could feel that goofy grin take over again, as pride covered his words.

You rifled through the freezer, and he saw you produce a frozen bag of fruit instead of the ice. “Honestly, that’s pretty fucking cool. So screw cowboy, I should be calling you flyboy instead then huh?”

He started to tell you that you could call him little red hen and he’d answer to it, instead he cleared his throat and asked for your name. You told him, and damn if it wasn’t as pretty as you. The combination of learning your name, smelling your perfume, and feeling your gentle touch as you pressed the bag to his eye, had him more buzzed than any alcohol he’d ever consumed.

“So Nick Rye, eye in the sky, anybody tell you you’re pretty hot? You’ve got this hipster mountain man thing going on, I like it.”  
“Miss I’m so flattered by that, I’m gonna forget you called me a hipster.” his tone was in jest, but he felt like he could do anything in that moment. The girl who invented beauty, and made hellfire look tame thought he was hot.

“It’s a compliment in this day and age.” you laughed, and drew a little closer which he did not miss.

“Maybe in your neck of the woods like Hollyweird, or Madhattan, but here you may as well call me seven types of pussy. It’s the same thing.”

You fell forward, and snickered into his shoulder and his leg started shaking. Not at all unlike a dog wagging its tail, he noted with some embarrassment.

“You’re insane. I’m from Atlanta thank you very much. So just the right amount of country, with only a teeny bit of hipster.” you lowered your hand, and he pouted. Cutely, unbeknownst to him.

“Well, any amount of country makes you ok in my books.” he gave a curt nod with a smile.

“Enough to let me visit ‘Rye and Sons’? I’d love a flight tour.”

His eyes widened and he grasped your arms out excitement. “I’d love that! Any time, it’s not far from here. I won’t even charge you.”

You laughed, and he decided he was addicted to it, and that he was ok with that. “Ok. I’m holding you to it.

A silence bloomed between you two, and he dropped his hold quickly out of embarrassment. He muttered an apology and scratched the back of his head.

“You can kiss me Nick. Awkward silences aren’t as cute as they look in movies.” you gave him a small encouraging smile.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours. At first he was testing the waters (was this real? Were you real???), but you pressed back harder and then it was on. He encircled your waist with his arms, and pulled you closer. You settled in between his legs, and curled your arms around his neck. That extra bit of intimacy triggered a feeling of warmth within him. He wondered if that’s what people meant when they mentioned cheesy bullshit about hearing bells or fireworks. He didn’t hear either, but he felt tingling and warmth in every part of his body. Your soft lips and gentle caresses to his neck made his head sway.

He broke away, lips tumbling across your warm cheeks. You giggled, muttering about his beard, which he pressed into your skin to draw out more of your sounds. He kissed into your neck, and that’s the first time he heard you moan. Your head dipped back, and your eyes went in the same direction. He froze for a second, the sound on a loop in head, before went back for the same spot again. He worked that spot thoroughly with two intentions: marking it, and getting you to let out that fucking angel chorus of a moan again. He achieved both, and got a bonus call of his name which boosted his confidence. His hands slipped under your dress to grip your ass (lace panties? how could he convince fate to let him marry you?), and you dug your nails into his neck. He was straining against his jeans, and suddenly hyper aware of every inch of your generous curves folding into him. Your lips were on the shell of his ear, working their way to his own neck. His hands traveled upwards to the edge of your panties.

“Whoa there flyboy. If I fuck you now, how will I impress you on our second date?”

“This counts as a first?” he huffed, out of breath and hard as steel.

“Uh, yeah. Otherwise I have to be ashamed of letting a complete stranger feel me up in a bar kitchen like a good southern belle.” you teased him, nipping at his neck.

He couldn’t decide whether to cry, or attempt a backflip. He decided to settle for something less extreme than both, and just allow that damn grin to overtake his features. A second date with you. And if his dick wasn’t running everything north of his pants, he was pretty sure you’d promised sex somewhere in there.

He didn’t even care if Mary kicked his ass for skipping the ice.

**Author's Note:**

> This got to reminding me of my Edward fic a little bit. Why do I think people can only meet in bars?


End file.
